


The Right Thing

by Ezzy_Pie



Series: Cullen Rutherford & Solona Amell  - Stories of the Dragon Age, Blight and Beyond [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Rebound, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezzy_Pie/pseuds/Ezzy_Pie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The inquisitor is hurting after her devastating breakup with Solas, Cullen is there when she needs comfort. He does the right thing, much to the Inquisitors outrage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Thing

Cullen’s amber gaze alighted on the Inquisitor. She was staring so intently at the markers on the war room table that Cullen wondered if she was attempting to set them ablaze with her thoughts. Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra were discussing the best way to do…something. If Cullen was honest he hadn’t be listening. His attention had been drawn to the thin elf, who looked even thinner than she had in days past, her soft, doeskin shirt seeming to hang off her narrow shoulders. Occasionally she would trail long, delicate fingers absently across her face, where the lines of her vallaslin had been not three days before.

Cullen watched as her sapphire eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, feeling a sudden forceful yearning to wrap her in his arms, pull her into his lap and just hold her while she cried into his shoulder as she clung to him for comfort

But she had Dorian for that.

“I think that is enough for today.” Said Cullen, catching Cassandra’s eye and indicating to where the inquisitor was now biting her lip to prevent the tears falling. The Seeker smiled with sympathetic understanding. 

“Yes, I agree with the Commander. We can continue this tomorrow. Inquisitor.” Cassandra squeezed Valindra’s shoulder as she passed by. Josephine and Leliana cast her kindly smiles and followed Cassandra from the room. 

Cullen began to shuffle about the room, gathering up the charts and related documents. He turned to see the Inquisitor still standing at the end of the table. Cullen’s heart ached for her; he longed to sooth her hurt. He placed the armful of papers back onto the cluttered desk and came to stand beside her, allowing himself to pat her shoulder.

“It gets easier, trust me.” Cullen said softly. She whirled around; tears spilling down her naked face. Cullen couldn’t help but think that even in anguish she looked beautiful.

“How?” She demanded, furiously swiping at the offending tears. “Every time I look in the mirror I’m reminded of what he took from me! What I let him take! I was a fool to trust a man who held so much of himself from me!” 

“Love makes fools of us all, Inquisitor.” Cullen commented absently, his mind momentarily far away, before drawing his gaze back to the elven woman before him.

She stood before him, a wild thing in her rage, the air crackled dangerously around her for an instant but vanished just as quickly as it had begun. And then she was in his arms, her tiny fists balling in his tunic, her head curled beneath his chin, her tears soaking through his clothing, sobbing against his chest. Cullen stiffened, hesitating briefly before wrapping his arms about her small frame, pulling her into the warmth embrace. 

They stood like that for the longest time. The leader of the Inquisition, First of her clan, Possessor of the Anchor, sobbing uncontrollably in her Commander’s arms, until her tears ran dry.

Cullen couldn’t stop himself, he buried his face in her masses of silver-white hair, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled of sunshine after the rain, and something forbidden. Pain tugged at his heart strings. 

She was not his.

Cullen made to pull away, to set her from him but suddenly her lips were pressed to his, her tongue dancing along his chapped lips, her tiny hands at his face, pulling him forward as she backed up against the war table.

His hands fisted in her hair, desire lanced through him, heat coiling tight like a spring in the pit of his belly. He devoured her lips hungrily, tasting her sweetness on his tongue as she curled her arms about his neck. He crushed her to him, her small breasts pressed tightly against the broad planes of his chest. 

Cullen groaned into her mouth, grasping her arse, lifting her to the edge of the table; her long lithe legs wrapped themselves about him, bucking her hips against his, the delicious friction fuelling the red-hot need blazing in him. Her hands were under his tunic, drawing long, delicate fingers across his burning flesh as he trailed biting kisses down her throat and along her collarbone, tasting the saltiness of her skin, her hands gliding downwards to grasp his arse between her palms.

The headiness of the moment clouded his mind, rendering his judgment obsolete. He could think of naught but her soft, supple flesh beneath his fingertips as he skated his hands up the inside of her tunic, along her ribcage, splaying his calloused hands across the flatness of her belly. Reveling in the feel of her, as she gasped and sighed beneath his touch. He slid his hands firmly over her creamy flesh, circling his thumbs over her nipples through her breast band. A mewling moan escaped her lips as he palmed her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples until they were hard peaks beneath his touch. 

She pulled him closer, the two of them falling back onto the war table, her silver hair fanning out like a shining halo beneath him, her lips swollen from his hungry, urgent kisses. She reclaimed his lips in a searing kiss that made his toes curl, squeezing him tighter between her thighs as he ground his hip against her, his hand snaking between them to stroke his thumb against the sensitive nub between her thighs. He could feel the moist heat soaking her through her linen breeches. 

It had been so long, he hadn’t had a woman since Kirkwall. And this was Valindra, the inquisitor, and he wanted her more than he had wanted anything in very long time. He loved her since the first time he saw her, had dreamed about this moment. How many nights had he lain awake, thinking of her, stroking himself, spilling his seed into his own hand, imagining her naked in his arms, to have her writing beneath him, moaning his name as he buried himself inside her. The soft sighs and gasps of pleasure he was pulling from her were the most perfect sounds in the world.

Sounds he had heard through the rotunda door as he passed through the great hall not five days ago.

Sounds she made for Solas… 

No, no, no! What was he doing! This wasn’t right. Not like this. She didn’t want him. She wanted Solas. Solas who broke her heart and took her vallaslin. Solas who loved her…

Cullen stood up sharply, just as she was reaching for his belt buckle. He snatched his hands from her as though her skin burned, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment and shame. How could he do this? How could he have taken advantage of her in such a way? 

“Cullen? Are you alright?” He was panting hard, trying and failing to suppress the lust that spiraled through him even now as she half lay on the war table, leaning up on her elbow, face flushed, lips swollen and bruised from his kiss, hair in beautiful disarray, framing the delicate features of her face. He was buckling his belt, unable to look at her, shame burning his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The words felt empty, hollow. There weren’t words enough in the whole of Thedas to convey how much he regretted what had just transpired. He felt sick to his stomach about what he almost let happen.

“You want me Cullen; I’ve seen how you look at me.” She was sitting up now, staring at him, bewildered. And making no attempt to straighten her mussed hair or rearrange her clothing. 

“Inquisitor…” He exhaled sharply, choking on her title.

“Make me forget, please Cullen, just for a little while. I want to not hurt like this.” She begged, reaching for him, trying to pull him back to her. Cullen stifled a groan, excruciatingly aware of the erection painfully straining against the inside of his trousers. He wanted nothing more than to throw her back down on the war table and fuck her senseless, until she screamed his name and forgot her own. If he were a lesser man he would.

But he wasn’t.

“I…I…I cannot. Not like this. I…I’m sorry.” Stammered Cullen, nervously raking his hand through his messy mop of curls. How had he let this happen?

Cullen saw the embarrassment and humiliation pass across her features, before it was replaced with seething anger. 

“Your loss, Commander.” She growled in disgust, spitting his rank as if it were something foul. She pushed off the table and stormed from the room. Cullen hurried after her, trying to apologize for… what…stopping himself…for doing the right thing?

He stopped at the entrance of the great hall, and stared after her retreating figure, thankful it was early and very few observed the rumpled Inquisitor. 

But someone did.

A prickling feeling shot up the back of his neck. Cullen glanced up to see Solas glaring intensely at him from across the hall. Something dark and predatory in his gaze unnerved Cullen, as Solas shifted his gaze between the Commander and the Inquisitor, his former lover of less than a week. 

The apostates fist were curled in tight balls at his side, jaw clenched, his mouth set in a grim line. Cullen felt the air around him turn frigid, his icy breaths puffing out in frosty vapours before his eyes. He looked away, rubbing vigorously at his forearms, trying to regain any semblance of warmth. And as suddenly as it began, the chill air enveloping him dispersed, the radiant heat from the braziers warming his chilled bones. Cullen glanced back toward Solas in time to see the rotunda door slam so violently with force magic he was certain the windowpanes of the great hall shook.

Makers breath! 

He would have to make sure to steer clear of Solas for a time. He’s seen the way the mage could throw up a wall of ice in the midst of battle, encasing his attackers in a blast of crystalized ice before he shattered the frozen corpse with a fade touched boulder.

Cullen sighed heavily, disbelieving the monumental mess he had made, and to now have two extremely powerful mages angry at him. He fleetingly regretted his resolution to give up Lyrium, but only momentarily.

Although Cullen knew things should never have gone that far, he was right to stop it, no matter how awkward this was going to make war meetings. 

He did the right thing.

**Author's Note:**

> My Inquisitor is hurting pretty bad after Solas, she's not going to go jumping into bed with everyone, she just needed some comfort, some validation and Cullen was just there, you know, being all Cullen-like. Unfortunately for Cullen, who it absolutely smitten with her, he's just not that guy who is going to take advantage of her vulnerability. She's not really angry at him, but at herself. And the anger covers up her embarrassment.
> 
> Gunna be a tad awkward in the workplace now...oops.
> 
> Poor Cully Wully, can't catch a break, does the right thing, gets frostbite from Solas.


End file.
